Helmer Norberg

[Maddness]

Player Name: Ed Lucas
Name: Helmer Norberg (Prefers Mer)
Age: 34
Race: Shifter/Werewolf
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 250lbs

Physical Description: As a man Helmer is both tall and stocky, with broad shoulders and a head full of long blond hair and slate grey eyes. His nose has a notch out of it near the tip, and both ears are pierced by inscribed gold rings, 2 in the left and three on the right, one ring in the lobe, one along the centre of the ear and one in the top on the right side. He has a board jaw and neck covered in small scars, and has long sideburns that end before the chin. He has a scar running under the right eye that looks recent. He has a large build with a barrel chest and long arms with big hands covered in hair. His legs are almost as broad as small tree trunks but well toned allowing him to be relatively nimble despite his size and stature, although not nearly as much as when he is shifted.
In his full Shifted form he appears as a large white wolf with blond hints and a scared muzzle.
His most striking appearance is when he uses his half man/ half wolf guise, most common in combat situations. In this form he tops almost 7' due to greater muscle mass, although his posture is different from a normal man with the shoulders being more hunched and the arms far longer then natural. He is also almost completely covered in fur and has a wolves head and legs along with paws instead of feet. He does retain human like hands, although the tips have become claws rather then nails.

Of note to many is his accent, which, although speaks the Eyropan tongue relatively well, seems to indicate his is more comfortable speaking a different language.

Possessions: He carries a strange rod of wood and copper in his pack that is bound in fur on both ends. He has a golden torque around his neck covered in with inscriptions similar to his piercings, and an odd silver coin sheathed in leather on a thong around his neck. On his back is sheathed a large Claymore sword and an oddly ornate duelling dagger on his left hip. He also carries a nondescript spear of simple make, although it is abnormally long in length. His clothing is of fine cut leather and fur, giving the impression that he is used to both wealth and colder climates.

Powers or Strengths: Helmer has the ability to shift forms to that of a large wolf and the many stages in between, and in most shifted forms is relatively powerful in close combat if a bit too direct. As a normal human he possesses a good deal of dexterity and power with both the Claymore and dagger, but reactions are slower then when he is shifted, and he sometimes fails to compensate for that.
He is a good linguist, knowing many languages of lands he has travelled through and is also a keen observer, taking and remembering in many details others would miss. He is quite athletic and a good runner and climber in any form. He also has the ability to tell peoples emotions by their scent, especially if someone is lying, although in human form this can be unreliable, especially in crowded areas
Torques power: Resists low to mid power magical attacks and effects, although can be overpowered by high powered magic or after continuous long use. It resists all magic, both bad and beneficial, regardless of its source or the casters intentions

Weaknesses: Helmer has an attitude that boarders on arrogance and is sometimes quite bad in overcrowded areas. He, like most of his people, is very uncomfortable when in confined spaces and is also a poor swimmer in any form. He has a very direct fighting style that has led to more dexterous foes getting the better of him on many occasions. He also has a very strong weakness to silver, even more so then most of his kin, where even the briefest touch can cause massive pain. He is an emotionally scarred individual who can be unstable if the situation becomes too stressful. He is also a heavy drinker and is prone to mood swings once drunk.

History: Helmer was born far to the northeast of Thar Shaddin in the Snowy Kingdom of Salvagard, a nation almost solely host to shifters such as Helmer and his Werewolf kin. He was born first from a litter of twelve pureblood werewolves, the son of King Olof Norberg, Lord of Snow, and his mate of the time Lady Slyvana. He grew fast, and by the age of 15 was one of the tallest boys in the kingdom. His skill as a hunter was the pride of his litter, but the mantel of warrior fell to his brother Galamir, his second youngest brother. For what Helmer had in brute strength his brother had in grace and dexterity, and although the pair were closely matched, it would almost always be Galamir who won the fights throughout the boys’ childhood.

The boys were worked hard, and even as sons of the royal house had a duties including hunting, chopping wood and defending the kingdom from regular attacks by the brutal icemen of the far northern wastes. Beyond that they were also taught by tutors from foreign lands (Usually humans or elves imported by their father to educate his offspring) who led their learning in the world of numbers, literature, Magic (although Helmer had virtually no aptitude for it), weaponry and even philosophy (a subject almost none of the many royal Heirs cared to learn).

By his age of ascension (18) Helmer was renown by many in the kingdom, being a good hunter and hardy personality who socialized as much with the common man as he did with the nobility, and had twice as many kills under his belt as many hunters had who were twice his age. However, He had become very arrogant in his abilities, and the king decided that this needed to be remedied if there was a chance that Helmer would one day ware the crown of the Snow Lord.

As with all youths at their age of Ascension, Helmer was set the task of hunting a particular creature and presenting its body to the King. Then they would be adults and free as their own master. Although most were given mundane creatures like the Snow Leopards and Giant Elk, or even more powerful beasts like a Snow troll or illusive salamanders, those of particular skill were given more challenging tasks, and so it was for Helmer. His father called the young hunter before the throne and challenged the lad to present to him the head of an Ice Giant, a task not performed for an age of the kingdom.

Ice Giants were a form of Snow Troll grown to massive proportions (Most almost 15’-20’ in height) in the caverns beneath the great eastern mountains, and who plagued the realms boarders when they emerged from their short summer slumber to raid the nearby villages for food and fun.

The task was near suicide, but to one of Helmer’s skill and arrogance this was a task he saw as worthy of his attention. Although he would never vocalise it, the king had hopes that Helmer would be unable to perform this titanic task, as it would be a blow to his arrogance and hopefully force him to become a better man because of it.

The young werewolf set out with nothing but some hunting spears and the clothes on his back to search for the illusive Giants. It was early autumn at the time, but the snow was already thick on the ground, and the Ice Giants would be on the move. For almost a week Helmer hunted, as both man and wolf, searching every faint trace for a sign of his quarry. But he always seemed to be one step behind, always arriving after the beasts had broken camp and moved on.
After the second week he almost despaired at ever finding his quarry when the Lord of Luck granted his wish. By chance he almost stumbled into a clearing where the Giant raiders were sleeping in the late afternoon light before they moved on later that evening.

Using his cunning nature he lured the one sentry away without sounding the alarm and led it to a clearing some distance from the main camp.
However, in his arrogance he had failed to realize that there was no escape from the densely vegetated area other then the way he entered, and the moment he cast his spear he suddenly realized his mistake. As it flew through the air the metal head reflected the light of the setting sun in its polished surface. The Giant, although hardly thinker of the year, was far sharper then it’s distant troll cousins, and brought up his club in time for the spear to bury itself deep into the handle, its head peeking through the other side . With a roar of rage the creature charged, shaking snow from the trees as it did so. In fear for his life, Helmer shifted, becoming a half wolf, half man with razor sharp claws and a piercing fangs whist retaining his upright gait and stature. He dodged round the beast, slashing many wounds in the creature’s thick hide. But the Giant was unharmed, and charged again, its bellow making Helmer’s ears ring in pain. After avoiding it for a second time, slashing ineffectually at its flanks, the young hunter knew that nothing his claws could do would harm the creature. He heeded to go for the delicate head with its soft targets, like the eyes. However, on the third charge Helmer was not fast enough, and the beast got in a glancing blow, throwing the lad through the air to smash into a tree.

As he got to his feet it was apparent he was in a bad way. His fur was matted with blood and many ribs had been broken by the Giants swing. Helmer knew he could not win; the beast was too much for him, and with a final blow he would meet his end. The young hunter began to chant his death hymn in raged breaths, willing his soul to the halls of his forbears to sit among their mighty company.

The creature advanced again, grinning inanely at the anticipated kill. Then from nowhere a bright spear flashed through the evening light, imbedding itself deep in the creatures left shoulder. It roared in pain, and both it and Helmer turned. There at the entrance to the clearing stood Galamir, the corpse of a salamander at his feet. The slightly singed brother stood, his final spear extended before him in a challenging gesture to the hulking beast. The Giant roared and turned fully to face this new aggressor, its feet set ready to charge.

This was Helmer’s chance. With a great leap he bounded onto the creatures back, his wounds screaming in pain at the sudden move. With a hate filled roar he bound onto the confused giants shoulders, and with a mighty twist of his hands he snapped the creatures head round, breaking its thick neck with an audible crack.
With this killing blow the deed was done, and the giant toppled to the ground. There was only one question on Galamir’s lips as he approached his battered brother, “Now, how do we get the head off?”

Three days later the brothers returned to the City of the Snow Lords, proudly displaying their kills to the cheers of passers by, many in awe of the massive giants head bound to Helmer’s back. They presented their kills to King Olof as he sat on his throne, judging them both by the mighty deeds they had accomplished. However, as he stood there facing his father, Helmer was overcome by an emotion he had never felt before, humility. He dropped to his knees, his head lowered in shame. “Father,” He said “I must confess, this kill is not mine, for without the assistance of my brother it surely would have destroyed me in the woods and left me as bones to be picked over by carrion.”
As the snow lord heard this confession from his son he sensed the change in Helmer, a subsidence of the old arrogance and the blossoming of a new man in place of the young child. Walking to the prostate boy he brought the lad’s head up with a hand, and nodded, a slight but profound gesture between father and son. Both kills were declared admissible, and the new men feasted well that night. From then on the brothers were also the best of friends, each complementing the other’s strengths and mitigating their weaknesses.

This friendship continued for many years, making both famous throughout their lands for there deeds in both battle and the bedchamber. However, ambition had begun to enter Galamir’s heart, and he sought to raise himself above his brother, who seemed in Galamir’s eyes to receive more praise for their actions then him, for Helmer spent more time with the commoners then his noble kin, and was much loved for it, despite the airs he adopted with them.

His time came at the death of the Heir apparent, their oldest brother Seb at the hands of a large Icemen raid. After a month of morning the brood of royalty was brought together, over 150 men and women, all werewolves of varying abilities who had been fathered by King Olof over his years as Lord of Snow. Both Helmer and Galamir were in the top age groups, now approaching their 29th year. Normally the count would be closer to 200, but King Olof was a young king by Shifter standards, only 90 by most counts.
The road to becoming Heir apparent to the throne of Salvagard was a long one, and fraught with danger. Of the 150 only 60 chose to compete in the risky task. As all Heirs had done before, the group had to individually navigate their way past mountains, forests and glaciers to the Roof of the World, the very panicle from where all lands were south of that position. There they would find the spring of life, a pool of blood red water that would never freeze. When there they had to drink from the pool, add a drop of their own blood for luck, then bring back a measure of the water in a glass vial to present to king upon their return. Whoever returned first would be declared most worthy of becoming Heir.

For a man the journey would be suicide, but for a werewolf it was merely extremely dangerous. Their shifter constitution and training would be able to get them there and back, if they could find their way past the hordes of Icemen, monsters, magic rifts and extreme conditions. From challenges of the past it was known that of the 60 on average only 5 would survive this danger, and all undertook this journey at their own risk. In Seb’s group only he had returned alive, hence the need for another challenge.

They all began together at the height of midsummer when the days never ended in the far north. It was a festival atmosphere in the city, but all at the starting area knew this may be the last time they looked upon their homeland again. The king came forward, asking if there were any who wished to quit the race now that the start was imminent. No-one backed down. King Olof nodded to them all, his children that he may never see again, and the race began.

At the beginning it was close, but by the end of the first week the ranks had thinned considerably, through numerous accidents and deaths at the hands of the icemen and monsters. To Helmer it was all a game, for he never had any ambitions for the throne, but this was a journey of a lifetime, forbidden under most other circumstances.

However, to Galamir it was far more serious, and he was determined to fend of his main rival, Helmer himself. He tried everything, collapsing mountain passes with avalanches, misguiding Icemen into Helmer’s path, even setting traps with wild monsters. Somehow Helmer’s luck held, as it had with the Giants so many years before, and he avoided almost all these problems with his unpredictable nature, resting when he should forge on, continuing on when he should be resting, nothing seemed to faze him.

Still, his progress was steady but unhurried compared to Galamir’s frantic pace. Finally, after weeks of almost constant travel the pair reached the pool within days of one another, although while Helmer stopped now and again to admire the beauty of the endless white desert Galamir pushed on, and was the first there and back again.

As they drank from the pool it suddenly seemed to them they were being watched by many hundreds of shifters staring down at them throughout the ages, judging their worthiness to rule, kith and kin from long ages past who now resided in the hall of ancestors. With Helmer all he sensed was an aloof non-emotion that he couldn’t place, something akin to pride but more faint and brittle. But for Galamir it was as if the shades had seared his very soul searching through his dark secrets and desires, finding he spirit wanting. He fled the sight, the visions haunting his very step, and almost ran the long trip back to Salvagard with fear in his heart and soul.

It was two months after the 60 had set out when both Galamir and Helmer returned, the only survivors of the long race. They arrived within days of one another (With Helmer managing to find a shortcut home down the vertical side of a glacier), but it was still Galamir that was declared the winner, for his fear had driven him home harder then all the whips of hell. He was hailed as the new Heir of Salvagard, and upon him many laurels of victory had been placed, along with Helmer’s own blessings on his return. But fear had begun to gnaw at Galamir’s heart, fear that in truth he was not worthy, that he had been judge wanting by his ancestors.

Over the next 2 years he became increasingly erratic. Gone was the nimble warrior who bested Helmer many times in the arena. Now he became an animal full off fear and rage, snapping at even his closest friends and locking himself away for hours trying to divine the true purpose of the ancestors judgments from books and scrolls written throughout the ages.

The court was worried at the Heir’s behaviour, seemingly unbecoming of the next in line to the throne of the Snow Lords, and persuaded Helmer as his close friend to try and bring his brother back from the edge of madness.

The conversation did not go well.

Helmer was distressed at how far his brother had fallen, the hunter seeing how shrunken and dishevelled he had become locked away in his room. He pleaded with Galamir to come back form the brink and end this paranoia before it consumed him. But it was too late. Galamir accused Helmer of trying to manipulate him and had him thrown physically from his chambers by the palace guard. It was then Helmer knew that his friend and brother, the one he had known and depended on all these years was dead, and in his place was a thing of madness, paranoia and greed.

Then came the final straw that broke the camels back. In a fit of fear and rage the Heir broke into the forbidden vault far beneath the city keep, and stole from its depths the Book of Twelve, an ancient text said to be handed down from the twelve gods of Salvagard themselves at the founding of the kingdom almost two millennia ago.

It was forbidden at that time for any to look upon the book, as to all mortals the book only held insanity, as it contained the plan of gods for the course of the world. With it the wielder could intercept events before they happen and bring about their own designs for the destiny of the world, but at the risk of its very destruction. In his madness Galamir also stole the Silver Spear of Kasherik and many items of mystical value.

It was these great artefacts that the Heir in his madness stole, killing three guards at their posts as he fled the castle and the kingdom, and was last seen fleeing to the hot southlands far beyond the southern mountains.

King Olof was beside himself with rage and grief, his own Heir being the one that could bring ruin to his kingdom, maybe even the world. He called Helmer before him, naming him there the new Heir apparent, stripping Galamir of the title forever.

He then handed Helmer the Silver Spear of Kashinor, twin to Kasherik, a sacred relic unused for generations that was designed specifically as a weapon to end the lives of traitors to the kingdom. He also gave him a golden torque infused with protective magic’s, a bag containing many precious gems to be used in trade and a diplomatic scroll granting him the rights as ambassador to every land he visited, to be used in the event he was apprehended by local officials in his hunt for his one time brother.

Then Helmer was gone, leaving his family and his kingdom behind to travel many nations in search of his lost brother and the Book of Twelve. Although he felt twinges of fear at the unfamiliar lands he would be hunting in, he also felt resolved to hunt down and destroy the one that brought shame to his family and risked the safety if the world for his own ends.

It has been a great journey, for Galamir is cunning pray even in his madness and has travelled across the continent in his attempts to remove the black stain on his soul. It could still be a long road full of twists and turns for Helmer the Hunter, Heir to the Kingdom of Salvagard.

Only time will tell how this story ends.

[Maddness]

Note, edited post for proofreading purposes, also added a little more depth and coherence (Remember kids, writing a Bio between 2-4 am will lead to spelling mistakes, grammar errors and general grumpiness)

[Niabi]

Just a few questions,

You already answered my questions about his silver spear and coin but i just want to point out that a weapon made of silver won't be that effective unless it is used against somebody with a weakness to silver.

I'm curious about his dagger

an oddly ornate dulling dagger

I'm feeling as if there's some sort of story to this or something you aren't telling us.

I want to point out that shifters in our setting only live to about 150 so his dad dying at 130 isn't really that young. Most shifters don't even make it that long as there tends to be a fair amount of fighting among themselves especially in places like Zhaltev (the shifter capital city).

I also wanted to say "Damn! His father had 150 children, that's impressive." If I think of more things that need to be cleared up or expanded on I will get back to you, sorry it's taken me a few days but I've been busy.

[Maddness]

Ah, of course. I understand about the Spear, and it does only have one purpose in Helmer's storyline and that is to kill his traitor brother (note, the spear is not the one that he carries but is the rod bound in fur that he keeps in his pack. It telescopes out to form a spear)

As for the dagger, that was another typo, and was meant to say Duelling dagger. In a land where people spend their lives as moth man and beast their style of personal combat would be much more personal then the sword duels fought in human lands, and so would probably use daggers as weapon of choice if a duel had do be fought. Also, in a society that has many hunters a dagger has hundreds of uses that a sword would not (ever tried to skin a deer with a sword?). It is ornate as it is one of the few items that portrays Helmer’s high station in the kingdom, and anything more would likely be too ungainly or impractical for him to carry around with him.

As for the age, I was under the impression that they lived for 200 years, but I can change that as needs must, but having reached the rank of king, Olof is more likely to live longer as he would be living in less dangerous conditions then most of his kinsmen.

As for the Number of children, I know this may seem a little OTT, but I do have my reasons for such a high number. The basis for this is that all children in Salvagard are conceived, gestated and birthed whilst the parents (then Mother) are in full wolf form, leading to the more traditional births of litters of Shifters (Usually around 7-9) as opposed to a single child usually conceived by humans. I know this seems odd, but in a world where life can end very suddenly at a very young age the birth rate needs to be as high as possible to prevent the attrition of the population to virtually nothing.
Plus, Salvagard peoples do not take permanent mates, only ones in passing who do the deed then part ways until the children are born. They are then raised by both Mother and father separately, both parents teaching the children hunting, fighting and other trades they need to survive the bitter north. This may seem like a strain for individual parents to support, but life in Salvagard is far more communal, and items such as food are metered out equally, so what the poorest peasant eats, the king eats also.

Hence, for King Olof to have 150 children is not to much of a stretch, as by the age of 90 (new age) he would have only have needed to sleep with women between 15-18 times in his life, which for a man in his position is not that farfetched and so a large number of offspring is to be expected.

What I’m trying to do is mesh the idea of a Nordic lifestyle with that of wolves along with some original ideas. It is a little odd to try and rap your head around, but hopefully it helps bring the character to life as opposed to “Mysterious Shifter from the north arrives seeking Vengeance!!!” which ultimately seems kind of tedious to me.

Also, I know some things are a bit vague, but a lot of that is intentional. I want people to go ‘Ooo, what is that?’ and ‘why has he got that” etc. I know that people are meant to keep OOC and IC knowledge separate, but if people already know about something they would be less tempted to play against him to learn about him. Sorry to sound preachy but that is one of the reasons why things are a little vague. If you want me to write everything out that’s fine, but it may become tedious quickly if you want it all.

[Niabi]

I'm really sorry this has taken so long.

I have talked to you about the character and we discussed the use of the silver weapon and the coin and we were somewhat unsure of the brother with this magical book of secrets but we went over that and cleared up everything and I couldn't find anything else that needed to be fixed or changed with it, so I'm going to approve it. Again, I'm sorry it took so long.